Sixteen Minutes
by detective-sweetheart
Summary: No matter what any of us do, it all shall come back down to those seconds that separate the moments of our lives.


The clock reads 11:44. December 31st is better known to the world as New Year's Eve, but to the unit, it is just another day. Paperwork is scattered over four different desks. One of them is mine. The other is Fin's and the other two belong to Elliot and Olivia. All three of my colleagues are conspicuously absent. So is the captain. They have all decided that this particular night is better spent over drinks and conversation. I, on the other hand, would prefer not to ruin whatever good mood they're in with my cynical ranting about the world around us, and therefore, I am here, in the squad room.

The temperatures in the city have been rather erratic lately; first it's hot, and then it's cold, and then it's in between. Right now, it's cold. Snow is falling, clearly visible out of the squad room windows, the snowflakes drifting in various directions, driven by the wind. The usual voices are present outside the precinct, even though I don't recognize them, but enough time has passed that any voice is a usual voices. So many people walk by here every day that I am surprised I haven't come across one of them, but on the other hand, I am not. In this city of millions, you would be lucky to come across the same random person more than once.

I promised the others that I would have at least _some_ of their paperwork done by the time they decided to return, but it isn't going all that well. For some reason, the snow has distracted me: I twirl the pen that I've been using between my fingers and stare out the window, paperwork forgotten. I figure that they can forgive me if it's not done just this once, if not now, then at a later time. It's theirs to be doing anyways; in reality, they're lucky I've even offered to attempt to finish it, because normally, I wouldn't. And they wouldn't offer to finish mine either. But as it is, when midnight hits, a new year will begin, and even though I don't really believe in the whole New Year's resolutions thing, I figure that at least some attempt at change will be worth it.

Besides, even if _I_ change, the city won't. It'll remain the same regardless of what I do, and regardless of what the others do. We can change all we want, and the world outside us will still remain the mess that it is and probably always will be. The thought is of no comfort. I decide at this point to stop watching the snow and to return to the paperwork: the irritation of my colleagues isn't something that I want to face, even though I doubt they'll be returning to the squad room. Why should they want to waste what's left of tonight sitting here remembering things that they don't want to remember? I let myself mull over this for a few minutes and start to wonder exactly why I'm sitting here doing exactly what they don't want to be doing.

There is but one answer to that: they all have some resemblance of lives outside of the squad room, and I do not. All I have is an empty apartment and whatever bills I forgot to pay this month. Paperwork seems like a rather welcome alternative than worrying about my finances. The pen that I'd been twirling earlier has fallen from my fingers to the floor; since I don't feel like bending over to retrieve it, I pull another one from the cup on my desk. A file of Olivia's paperwork sits in front of me. Of all the squad, she's the one who almost always has hers close to being finished; I figured when I started this that hers would be the best place to start, and I'm not disappointed: she's left relatively little to be done. It's more than I can expect from the other two…and even from myself.

At this point, the clock reads 11: 46. Two minutes have gone by without my knowing it, but it is not surprising. Time tends to pass quickly in this squad room, whether any of us like it or not. Even so, the silence is starting to get to me. I almost wish that the other four would come back and bring with them the voices that I have come to know so well over the past seven years. The sound of my pen on the papers before me is the only sound I can hear at the moment. It is of no true comfort, but at least it's something. I lean back in my chair again to stare out the window. The streetlights glare at the city below them, at the people walking by, the voices drifting past. I'm tempted at this point to leave the squad room and find the others, to sit with them and talk about whatever issues they've brought up at this particular 'gathering'.

The feeling goes away as I look at the clock again to find that it now reads 11:49. Three minutes have gone by…five minutes overall. There are eleven minutes left until the New Year comes. In all honesty, it will make no difference. The beginning of a new year doesn't stop people from hurting each other, it doesn't stop murders from going down, rapes from being committed…and it certainly doesn't mean that the lot of us can just up and quit…even though we want to, more often than not. With this in mind, I turn back to the paperwork laid out in front of me. None of us have ever liked doing it, which is probably why it waits for so long before one of us is finally annoyed by it and makes it their task to finish it come hell or high water. This time around, it's my turn to do so.

I wonder for a minute as I finish what's left of Olivia's paperwork and move on to Fin's, because it's closer and I don't feel like getting up to see what Elliot's got left, whether or not anyone ever really thinks of the new year as a time for change. I can't say for certain that I ever have; most New Years' celebrations of years past have found me drunk or halfway there, which makes it impossible for me to remember. But on those years when I wasn't in that particular state of mind, I can't remember ever having thought of it that way. But maybe that was because those were the years when I was young and stupid…years when I had not yet seen as much as I have seen this time around. I figure that people _do_ change at the beginnings of new years, or rather, they _try_ to change, but it always ends up going back to one thing: they always go back to the way they were before.

The clock now reads 11:53. Four minutes have gone by without my noticing, leaving seven minutes until the new year. Four minutes that I can never get back. I prefer, however, not to linger on what has already come to pass, and instead, I look out the window again, alternating between that and what's left of the paperwork, thinking about the minutes that are to come. It seems strange, really, to be thinking about things that I do not know about for certain, even though the probabilities are high that there will be another case to solve, another trial to go through, another ADA to argue with and another chance to flout the brass' authority and be lauded for it anyways. These four minutes that have passed with my just sitting there will make little difference in what is to come.

At this point, I start to think about that unknown future, and I wonder whether or not people would change the way they are if they could see what is to come for them. It bothers me to think that there are some who, even if they _knew_ they'd end up committing a crime, they wouldn't do anything to stop it from happening. And all that does is make me wonder what the hell I'm even doing here. In a world such as the one that I and my colleagues are living in, it seems shocking that even though there are people who _do_ care, there are not enough of them so that it appears that this city is not as bad as everyone thinks it is.

Then again, maybe this city really is that way, and I am the one who is wrong for thinking that it is not. With all the things that this unit sees, it is quite honestly a wonder that any of us still have faith in this world…though, truth be told, even if we _do_ have faith, there is very little left of it. None of us are innocent, nor do we claim to be. We lost that innocence a long time ago, whether it was when we first became police officers, when we first entered this unit, or even when we were still children and only just starting to learn exactly what the world around us held. Of course, nowadays, maintaining one's innocence is like holding a full time job: you can't let go of it or you'll lose it, but at the same time, you can't hold onto it forever.

Six minutes have passed by the time I look at the clock again: it is now 11:59 and one minute remains until the year 2006 begins. I decide to take these last sixty seconds to contemplate all that this unit has done…all that this unit will do. I realize at this point that even if the rest of the world doesn't seem to change, it does, and so do we, whether we like it or not…whether we even _notice_ it or not. But it happens, and it will continue to happen with all that we have seen…all that we _will_ see. I look at the clock again to see that it is midnight; voices outside the precinct are yelling, happily, many of them probably drunk, but this is the one night where that doesn't ever seem to matter.

Sixteen minutes have gone by since the fist time I looked at the clock ; ironically enough, the squad room is in the 16th precinct, but even so, it all comes back to one thing.

No matter what any of us do, it all shall come back down to those seconds that separate the moments of our lives.

A/N: And even for the New Year, LOSVU is not mine...but don't I wish it was. Love you all and happy new year!


End file.
